


Fourth of July

by wheel_pen



Series: Darkwood Eastport [6]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fish out of Water, Magic, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The entire Orange Light clan heads to the town park for the annual Fourth of July fireworks show. Not everyone is happy with the festivities, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fourth of July

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe. I’ve given a lot of thought to the Darkwood culture, so if something seems confusing, feel free to ask. I hope you enjoy!

_First summer, July_

The sun had disappeared over the horizon by the time Cal found a parking spot near the town park, leaving only a splash of pink and orange in the sky. The annual Fourth of July celebration was quite popular among locals and tourists alike, it seemed, judging by the number of cars crammed around the sides of the streets and into the nearby lots. Cal dialed Gillian on his cell phone as he assessed their location.

“We’re here,” he announced. “Had to park about four blocks north. Might as well have walked from home.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Gillian replied with a smile in her voice. “ _I’ll send someone over to help you_.”

Cal closed the phone and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Okay! Everybody ready to go to the park and see the fireworks?” he asked of the crowd in the back seat.

Lucia cheered with possible vague understanding. Charlotte squealed because Lucia had. Esteban and George started to cry at the noise. Laura crossed her arms over her chest and pouted silently.

“Great! I _love_ holidays,” Cal declared dryly, hopping out of the minivan.

He was in the process of unloading the children into their various stroller contraptions when Luke wandered up. “Hey, c’mere, Lucie,” he said, grabbing the three-year-old who had started to stagger away.

“You’re my assistance?” Cal replied, the dubiousness obvious.

“Gee, thanks,” Luke shot back. “Charlotte!” he added sternly as the rambunctious toddler yanked on his restraining hand.

“I thought there’d be _more_ of you, that’s all,” Cal clarified, loading up the double stroller with the massive bags of infant supplies required when transporting a young child. “Come on, Laura.” The six-year-old glared at him and didn’t move.

“Everyone else wandered off,” Luke reported, finally scooping Charlotte up. “Mum said to be back at the blanket by dark, and apparently it’s not dark yet.”

“Close enough,” Cal muttered. It was already hard to see in the gathering twilight. Maybe the idea of bringing the whole family out hadn’t been such a good one after all. “Laura! Now!”

“Hey, your hair looks cute,” Luke told the little girl when she finally climbed out of the van. “Did Daddy do your hair for you?”

“Daddy should open a salon,” Cal replied darkly, shutting the van door and putting the stroller in motion. Laura, Lucia, and Charlotte all had their pigtails curled _just so_ —and so did Princess Kiki, Laura’s doll, which Luke couldn’t help but notice. Fortunately Esteban and George did not place such demands upon their father before they would go quietly.

“Luke!” Laura whined, tugging on her older brother’s shirt. “Carry me!”

The fact that Luke was already carrying Charlotte and holding onto Lucia with the other hand was no deterrent for the little redhead. “But you’re a big girl,” the teenager stalled patiently as they ambled along. “Only _babies_ need to be carried. Do you know about the fireworks?” he went on by way of distraction.

“Yes,” Laura informed him. “They’re colored lights in the sky, and they make a loud noise.”

“Here, Laura, hold my hand,” Cal told her as they approached a street crossing.

The girl stuck her lip out and her father’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Luke rushed to intervene. “Can Laura help me walk Lucia across the street?” he asked innocently. “I need someone to hold Lucia’s other hand.” Cal snorted but turned his attention to the road, which was not busy but still had the occasional car.

“Gimme your hand, Lucie!” Laura demanded when her little sister squirmed from her grasp.

“Girls, you need to hold hands when we cross the street,” Luke chided sternly.

“Come on, hurry up,” Cal ordered impatiently.

At last they made it to the entrance of the park. “Oh, you’re here,” Alice observed, starting to turn back the way she had come.

“Thanks _so_ much for your help,” Cal replied sarcastically. “Push this.” He gave the stroller to her and took Charlotte from Luke. “Which way to the others?”

Alice led them through the darkening park, dodging children with dangerous-looking sparklers, teenagers gabbing and giggling, and adults sprawled into lawn chairs. Fireflies flickered on and off and the air was thick with the scent of the sea, grease, and wood smoke. Gillian must have already been at the blanket, as Cal found he could have navigated there even without Alice’s help.

The blanket—more than one, actually—was spread out across the grass not far from the baseball diamond. Gillian was indeed there, marshalling the troops and bribing them to sit down with pudding cups. Cal thought he saw a few small faces he didn’t recognize among the crowd, but he decided not to worry about it.

“There’s my babies!” Gillian greeted warmly, embracing the children. “Don’t you look sweet!” Luke gratefully set Laura down at their mother’s side—the little girl had pleaded again to be carried as soon as his arm was free of Charlotte—and flopped down on the edge of the blanket, body acting as a barrier to anyone who tried to wander away. “Oh, look at those curls!” Gillian continued to coo, seeing the less-than-thrilled expression on Laura’s face. “You look _so_ pretty!”

Laura appeared somewhat mollified by the attention. “Princess Kiki doesn’t like her shirt,” she told her mother, indicating her doll. “It doesn’t match her dress!”

Gillian nodded in sympathy. “I see. Well, it’s a _special_ shirt,” she pointed out. It was bright orange, with ‘Orange Light’ emblazoned on it in large letters, and it matched the ones that all the children and adults were wearing on this outing. “If Princess Kiki gets lost, everyone will know who she belongs to!”

Laura considered this for a moment, giving Gillian the chance to deal with some of the other young family members. Then she jumped to her feet. “I want to play on the swings!”

“Oh, but the fireworks are about to start,” her mother explained. “Let’s sit here and watch the fireworks with everyone. Caroline, come back here. Charlotte, don’t put that in your mouth. Louisa, a little quieter, please. James—“

“I want to play on the swings!” Laura demanded loudly and indignantly.

Gillian gave her a pained look. “Fifi, honey—“

“Laura.” Cal crooked his finger at the girl. “Come here.” She did so, but only with her feet dragging across the blankets and a scowl etched into her face. “Sit with me.”

“Don’t want to,” she muttered sullenly, staring at the ground.

“I didn’t _ask_ if you wanted to,” Cal pointed out. “Sit down.” She sat. Cal put his arms around the girl, who stiffened petulantly. He decided to leave her alone for a little bit, focusing on the other matters that required his attention as everyone settled in, waiting for the show to begin. They had discovered, rather unpleasantly, that Laura’s skin was too sensitive to be out in the sun on unprotected land; so while the rest of the older children got to come to the park and see the festivities of the day, Laura had had to remain at home with Cal and the babies.

Needless to say, this arrangement hadn’t gone over well with her.

Perhaps Laura and the babies should have just stayed home, period. Or someone could have come to get Laura only as darkness fell, so at least she wasn’t being transported with the younger children. Of course then one of the adults would’ve had to stay home as well—Gillian probably would’ve volunteered. Well, the servants could look after the babies perfectly well for a few hours, but that was a bit hard to explain to American authorities. Maybe Cal was really just overthinking this whole thing—Laura would find _something_ to be petulant about if it wasn’t this, so one couldn’t hold the family hostage to her whims. That had always been Cal’s father’s philosophy towards favorites, anyway.

“Laura! Come sit with me!” Sophia suggested eagerly, popping into view. “Oh, I like your hair!” Cal let the redhead go but kept an eye on her, in case she tried to sneak off. He had plenty of other people to keep his eyes on as well, though.

Including his spouses, apparently. Eli and Ria were the last to return to the blanket, giggling over something and holding hands. “Come here and sit by me,” Cal said inscrutably. He was staring at them both, but Ria decided the command was meant for her and settled down beside him, looping her arm through his. She laughed at the look he gave her when she kissed his cheek. “You’re in a good mood,” he observed, his tone clearly indicating this was a bad thing.

“It’s a beautiful evening,” she replied, as if that was any excuse. “I love the atmosphere here. People are really nice, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Cal replied suspiciously. “Don’t hold hands in public,” he added flatly, watching her response closely.

Ria rolled her eyes and pulled away from him a bit, fussing with a passing child before answering. “We were _just_ holding hands,” she muttered in a low voice.

“I told you not to do that.”

“That’s considered very _mild_ here, by the way,” Ria huffed. “Lucia, sit down please. It’s considered very mild back home, too.”

“ _This_ is home now,” Cal corrected sharply, and Ria’s expression indicated she’d caught her slip of the tongue and regretted it almost as soon as she’d said it. “You walked all around the park, holding hands?”

“Yes,” Ria told him, exasperated. She understood that she’d done something wrong in his opinion—holding hands with her husband, how shocking—and though she didn’t really get _why_ it was wrong, she didn’t need her nose rubbed in it repeatedly. “Alejo, bring that spoon to me.”

“Was Sophia with you?”

Okay, _now_ Cal was just being difficult. “Yes, she was with us some of the time,” Ria confirmed through gritted teeth. “Is that better or worse? Alejo! The spoon! Now!”

“I’m sure the three of you looked like a nice little family.”

Slowly Ria turned back to face Cal, surprised at his words—and the unconcealed expression on his face. “That upsets you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“You’re _not_ a nice little family,” Cal reminded her. “You’re part of a _big_ family whose structure is unfamiliar to these people. You can’t pretend to be something different just to blend in better.” But that wasn’t why she had done it. He tilted his head slightly. “Do you wish you _were_ just a nice little family?”

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” Ria countered defensively. “Because you had to stay home with the babies while _Gillian_ was here?”

“Alex, pick that spoon up and bring it over here _now_ ,” Cal ordered by way of response, and the little boy finally complied.

Gillian glanced over her shoulder. “Did someone say my name?”

“No,” Cal and Ria replied at the same time. Gillian gave them a look before turning back to the children.

“Jealous?” Cal hissed suddenly, right in Ria’s ear.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” she whispered back peevishly. “Isn’t whispering in each other’s ears worse than holding hands?” Especially when she could feel Cal’s breath right _there_ on her neck…

“It’s dark now,” he pointed out, leaning closer.

“I thought you were—“ She tried to maintain her focus as his arm slipped around her waist. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“Why?” he asked innocently, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s a beautiful evening. Lovely atmosphere…”

“Cal,” Gillian interrupted suddenly, and both Cal and Ria straightened back up quickly. “I don’t see Laura anywhere. Do you see her?” There was a tinge of panic in Gillian’s tone.

Cal did _not_ see the little redhead. “Sophia!” he summoned. “What happened to Laura?” The girl hesitated guiltily. “Sophia,” he warned.

“She wanted to play on the swings,” Sophia confessed in a small voice. “I told her not to! I wouldn’t go with her!” she pointed out.

“The swings are all the way on the other side of the park!” exclaimed Gillian with great concern. “And it’s dark and—“ A tremendous _boom!_ suddenly rent the night as the first fireworks exploded above them in a starburst of red and blue. Several of the younger children screamed and threw themselves at adults.

“I’ll go find her,” Cal decided, prying two children off him. “No, you stay here,” he told Gillian, who had popped up with him. “It’s alright, you stay and watch the others, okay?”

Another comet of yellow and green whizzed across the sky and exploded. They were beautiful, in their way, and amazing when one considered the technical and historical aspects, but—“Daddy! Mommy! It’s too loud! It’s scary! I don’t like it!” was mixed with “Mom! Dad! I can’t see around you!” in complaining tones.

“I’ll find her,” Cal repeated to Gillian reassuringly, rubbing her arms. Reluctantly she nodded and sat back down, gathering several children to her whether they needed comforting or not.

Cal stepped over people and off the blankets, taking a survey of the area in case Laura hadn’t gotten very far. Then he called up the other clan leaders and asked if anyone had seen her. It was somewhat of a tedious process as each had to ask around their families before answering, so he only called the ones he didn’t meet on his route to the swings.

“Lord Edward,” he greeted, tapping Edward Black Swan on the shoulder as he waited for the White Stag answer on his cell phone. “Have you seen Laura anywhere?”

Lord Edward straightened up, trying to gently disentangle himself from his First Lady, Bella, who didn’t like the fireworks any more than some of the children had. “No, sorry, I haven’t seen her, Lord Cal,” he admitted. “Bella, have you—?” Bella hadn’t seen much besides Edward’s t-shirt and the inside of her own eyelids. “Rosalie? Alice?” No help, unfortunately. Cal thanked them anyway and continued on.

He wasn’t really terribly worried about Laura, not like Gillian was, at least. He would run across her any minute now, between here and the swings, or someone would call to say they had a hold of her. If he didn’t find her within a reasonable period of time, _then_ he would become worried, of course; but there was no need to start that prematurely, because worry would only cloud his thought processes. There was no need to start thinking about the hazards inherent with a large group of strangers, outside the Valley that is, with no protective servants, and even though the town itself was fairly small, the fireworks displays drew a lot of tourists from the mainland…

Cal found that he had unconsciously quickened his pace and forced himself to slow down, to look around better and notice his surroundings as he should—he might spot Laura on a slightly different track, or he might spot someone who looked suspicious—The fireworks were really becoming irrationally annoying now, Cal thought, with the loud noise and the bursts of light that messed with his vision, not unlike a city being shelled during a siege, perhaps—

He stopped at the edge of the playground equipment, where moths fluttered desperately around a fluorescent lamp and one lone girl swung weakly back and forth, her enthusiasm for the activity having waned considerably. Cal stepped into the circle of light and Laura’s head snapped up suddenly; she visibly relaxed when she saw it was someone she knew. Obviously she’d been feeling her isolation keenly.

Cal flipped open his cell phone and dialed Gillian, who answered immediately. “Found her,” he reported, then closed the phone.

Laura was staring at her shoes when Cal sat down in the swing beside her. “Hi,” he opened. “How are you?” She shrugged dejectedly, knowing she was in big trouble. “How’s swingin’ goin’ for you?”

“It’s not very much fun!” Laura finally blurted with indignation.

“We’re gonna get swings at home, you know,” Cal reminded her. “They’re gonna be put in pretty soon. Maybe you’ll like those better.”

“I want to swing during the day,” Laura declared. “I don’t _want_ to swing in the dark!”

“I know, love,” Cal sighed. “But there aren’t servants here during the day. And when there aren’t servants around, the sunshine makes you sick. That’s why you’re fine when you’re at home, or when you visit other Darkwood friends, but you get sick other places.”

It was a distinction they didn’t have to make in the Valley. Moving had certainly been a huge adjustment for all of them, though it should have been easier for the younger children—but for Laura it had meant far more restrictions than she was used to. The first time she had gotten so sick, Cal and Gillian had discussed returning to the Valley—for a moment. All kinds of scenarios had been discussed, in fact. But as much as they loved Laura—and, alright, spoiled her—they had to think of everyone else in the family, too. Including themselves—there was only so long that Cal could be satisfied within the confines of the Valley before he had to get out. So they had decided to stay in Eastport, and make whatever accommodations they needed to for Laura.

“I know you wanted to play on the swings,” Cal went on, “but you mustn’t leave without permission like that. You need to ask us first, and only go if we say yes. You understand? Mummy was terribly worried when she couldn’t find you. And there’s no servants out here to help you if you get lost.”

“I thought someone would stop me, and they didn’t!” Laura agreed, seemingly more disturbed by this freedom than delighted.

“That’s right,” Cal agreed. “There aren’t any servants here to look out for you. So you have to think about what you do, and if it’s right or wrong.”

It was an interesting dilemma, really—in the Valley, and in Darkwood homes, the servants protected people from harm, cleaned up after them, kept them healthy; but on less protected land—the rest of the island, or the mainland—they were subject to the same dangers and concerns that most people had to live with on a daily basis.

For some people that contrast was too overwhelming to contemplate—those were the families who wanted to stay in the Valley, despite the temptations of America. Others, like Cal, who had traveled extensively beyond the Valley, or like his spouses who had lived a good portion of their lives outside of it, were more used to the precautions and adjustments needed. The children, however, had grown up with a sort of carefree innocence that even the most idealized First World childhood couldn’t match.

But children were also the most adaptable and resilient of all people, Cal knew. They just needed to be guided in the right direction.

Laura had been giving his words some thought. “It was wrong to come swing by myself,” she decided solemnly.

Cal nodded. “You must apologize to Mummy when we get back.” He stood up from the uncomfortable metal seat and held out his hand. “Come on, then.”

Laura hopped off her swing and took his hand, strolling back across the park with him with great satisfaction. Someone from every Darkwood blanket they passed waved and smiled at them, and Laura waved back. You could always tell a favorite. Ria thought the whole concept was terribly unfair, and she was right—it was unfair to spoil one child above the others, it was unfair to expect that child to stay with their aging parents instead of getting married, it was even unfair that favorites often had something ‘wrong’ with them; even a small blemish stood out in a land of perfection.

But to Cal such unfairness was minor compared to what befell people outside the Valley—were the difficult early lives of his three spouses at all ‘fair,’ with poverty, pain, fear, hardship? The Valley was extraordinarily safe and comfortable; but though it might aspire to utopia, it wasn’t _really_ perfect, as the favorites showed. Cal felt that was a far better example of unfairness than many, though. The favorites weren’t locked into their destiny, though; Cal himself was a favorite, who had nonetheless broken with tradition by starting his own clan and traveling the world. That was definitely the exception, though.

Anyway, Ria would understand better when her own favorite was born—it wasn’t a conscious choice mothers made, it wasn’t even based on pleasant personality. It was just a connection that _happened_ , sometimes even before the child was born. Laura had been marked as soon as Gillian saw her red hair, so reminiscent of the child she’d lost, before they’d even known about her delicate skin that couldn’t handle unfiltered sunlight. Maybe the connection had even begun before that—Gillian had been unusually calm during the whole pregnancy.

Finally they approached the collection of blankets inhabited by people in orange t-shirts, all of them staring up at the brilliant fireworks display that still thundered across the sky. All but one, that is.

Laura broke away from Cal and ran to Gillian’s arms, scattering some of her siblings heedlessly. “I’m sorry I went to swing without asking, Mommy!” she declared sincerely. “It was _wrong_!”

Cal settled down on the blanket towards the back on an empty patch and was immediately swarmed by the children Laura had dislodged. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Fifi,” Gillian told the little redhead, hugging her close. “You shouldn’t just leave like that! I was so worried!” She sat the girl on her lap and held onto her tightly.

The show last about forty-five minutes before ending with a particularly expansive display—more than long enough, Cal though, given that just waiting until darkness fell put it after the bedtimes of several of the children. A modest amount of confusion and chaos followed the end of the show, as blankets and snacks were gathered up and the children were apportioned between the various vehicles. Of course, every other family, Darkwood and non, was doing this as well, while the children did their best to scatter in all directions, unpack what their parents had just collected, and protest the vehicles they were assigned to.

Finally they were all strapped in and driving the short distance across the island to home. Alice was driving a car with Eli—the most easy-going parent—beside her, practicing her driving skills while transporting some of her siblings. Ria had been entrusted with one of the vans and Cal with the other; somehow everyone and everything fit into these three vehicles, for short trips anyway. Things were going along well enough and they were almost home when suddenly—Laura SCREAMED.

Cal, startled, swerved slightly on the road and swore. The other children, who had been dozing peacefully, started to scream and cry as well. Gillian turned around in her seat, trying to calm them. Then the cell phones started to ring, as the other vehicles called to see what the swerve was about.

“Laura! You mustn’t yell in the car like that! Now what’s wrong?”

“WHERE’S PRINCESS KIKI?!”

Oh no. The doll. The doll Laura was inseparable from, that even her mischievous older brothers had learned not to mess with. The doll she used as her alter ego in a possible unhealthy way. The doll that was nearly as pampered as Laura herself.

“Well, she’s probably just somewhere in the car,” Gillian suggested hopefully. “Louisa, look around her feet. Anna, check the hamper. Maybe she was folded up in a blanket. Yes, we’re looking for Laura’s doll,” she added into the phone. “Do either of you have it?” What Cal had, was a very bad feeling about the situation.

“Princess Kiki! Where’s Princess Kiki!” Laura wailed, her face turning red with distress.

“It’s okay, Charlotte. Don’t cry, Alex,” Anna said, attempting to soothe the other disturbed children.

“Maybe she forgot it at the park,” Louisa suggested, oh-so-unhelpfully.

“Fifi, honey, it’s alright, calm down,” Gillian told the hyperventilating girl. “Just take a deep breath—“

“Prin-cess-Ki-ki! Prin-cess-Ki-ki!” Laura continued to hiccup as loudly as she could.

Cal gritted his teeth and tried to focus on the road. He was sorely tempted to tell Gillian to _make_ the children be quiet somehow, or to yell at them himself, but he knew it would only add to the chaos and stress. Gillian was trying her best, after all. And they were _so_ close to home…

As soon as the van pulled on to their property, a servant appeared inside it, crouched just behind the center divider between the two front seats. Normally they didn’t show up so overtly—in a moving vehicle, no less—but this was urgent. “Yes, milady?” the man said solicitously to Gillian.

“Laura’s doll—you know which one I mean?—is she in the van?” Gillian asked a bit breathlessly. “Or any of the other vehicles?” Which were now following Cal down the long driveway.

“No, milady, the doll is not on the property,” the servant replied flatly.

Laura started to scream even louder, somehow. “Okay, get her out of here,” Cal ordered.

“Cal—“ Gillian began.

“Just take her to her room,” he snapped above the noise. “Right now!”

“Yes, milord,” the servant agreed, and both he and Laura vanished.

The activity in the van calmed somewhat. Cal could tell that Gillian desperately wanted to slide to Laura’s side, but she needed to stay and soothe the other children first. Cal didn’t bother pulling the van into the garage; he just parked it in front of the house and opened all the doors, shooing the children out into the balmy night.

The other two vehicles pulled up behind him, spilling children into the yard as they spotted fireflies that needed chasing, or just saw the opportunity to play longer before going to bed. “What’s going on?” Ria demanded immediately.

“Laura left her doll at the park!” Gillian replied hurriedly, fluttering around the van. She felt like she ought to do _something_ useful before checking on Laura, so she grabbed George from his carseat and marched into the house without another word.

“She forgot her doll?” Ria repeated with bemusement. “Princess Kiki?”

“Princess bloody Kiki,” Cal muttered sourly. “Screaming in my ear for the last three minutes…”

“Where is she?” Eli asked in confusion, having not seen or heard the girl.

“Had her slid upstairs,” Cal replied, in no hurry to go inside. “Right from the van. You cannot believe the noise she made.”

“She’s very attached to that doll—“ Ria started to observe, but Cal’s rolled eyes cut her off.

“Yeah, I didn’t miss that part,” he pointed out.

A servant appeared at Cal’s side, one who _wasn’t_ helping to unload the vehicles. “Excuse me, milord, but Lady Gillian requests your presence upstairs.”

Cal sighed in defeat and headed into the house. He couldn’t actually _hear_ Laura wailing still, but he felt as though she was. Gillian hovered anxiously outside the bedroom the little redhead shared with Sophia and Caroline, approaching Cal before he even reached it.

“Oh, Cal, she’s terribly upset,” Gillian told him, fairly upset herself. “I just don’t know how to calm her down!”

“Well—tell her I’ll go back to the park and get the doll,” Cal suggested sensibly.

For a moment relief bloomed across Gillian’s features. “Oh, you will? That’s wonderful, that will—“ Then she took a closer look at his expression. “You _are_ going, aren’t you?” she asked suspiciously.

“Sure,” he promised. “In the morning.”

“Cal!”

“Just tell her I’m going now, she’ll calm down and fall asleep, and I’ll go look in the morning, when it’s light out,” Cal insisted.

This plan was clearly not going to fly with Gillian, however. “You are going to go back there _now_ ,” she corrected in a low voice.

“It’s pitch black!” he protested. “I’ll never find anything.”

“Take a flashlight,” she replied coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cal studied her face closely for a moment, looking for a doubtful micro-expression he could use against her, but he saw none. She was a pillar of determination. After all, her child was in distress, and he had been designated the one to fix things. So there was really no point in fighting it.

He sighed again. “I’ll take a flashlight.”

**

The park was indeed pitch black. And even with the flashlight, it was near impossible to find anything. Cal had enough trouble just locating the spot where they’d all sat to watch the fireworks, thinking that the likeliest place to find the doll. Also it was a lot closer than the swings, at least according to where he’d parked. Every tree root and clump of grass looked like a doll, though, until he was directly over it, and there were also a shocking number of cans, paper plates, napkins, and other detritus. He felt he was becoming a true citizen of Eastport when his first thought was to blame the tourists for the mess.

Cal did not feel at all nervous about being in the park by himself after dark; he had been in a lot worse places, frankly. But he _was_ somewhat startled when another light suddenly appeared near him.

“Dr. Orange Light. I thought it might be you.”

“Evening, Sheriff Burke,” Cal replied nonchalantly. “Why did you think it might be me?”

The sheriff opened his jacket and produced a doll—Princess Kiki, with her purple tutu, black Mary Janes, perfectly curled hair, and a little orange t-shirt. “Those shirts were a good idea,” the sheriff commented, handing the doll over. “I saw that most of the Darkwood families had them tonight. You guys always do that?”

“Well, we decided we’d try it here,” Cal explained. “Our children aren’t used to being in crowds where it might be unsafe to wander off.” He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Were you waiting out here for one of us to come back? No, that would be silly,” he deduced from the sheriff’s expression.

“Actually I always do a few rounds of the park on summer evenings,” the sheriff explained. “Normally it closes at sunset, but the weather’s nice enough that sometimes people linger. Especially the youngsters.”

“Teenagers necking on the merry-go-round and so forth?” Cal guessed. “Yes, that seems to happen often in American movies.”

“No necking teenagers in Darkwood Valley?” Burke asked conversationally.

“Strictly forbidden,” Cal assured him. He could see the man didn’t quite believe him, or rather, thought he was being funny, but for once Cal didn’t feel like correcting someone. He felt like getting home, delivering the doll to its rightful owner, and claiming his heroic reward. “Anyway, thanks for finding Princess Kiki. Laura was screaming her head off when she realized it was missing.”

“No problem,” Burke assured him. “Someone found it by the swings over there. I was going to run it by the clinic in the morning. I remember how my daughter was about her dolls at that age.”

There was an odd hint of sadness in the sheriff’s face, which normally Cal would have pounced upon curiously. But it was a holiday, after all. Even so, he gave the other man a long, unnerving look before deciding not to pursue it. “See you later, Sheriff,” he finally said.

“Later, Doctor,” the sheriff returned, and they both turned away.

Cal flipped open his cell phone as he headed back to the car. “Gillian. I have rescued the damsel in distress,” he reported to his wife when she took the phone. “Do I get a bag of gold as my reward? Or maybe—“ She cut him off before he could elaborate, but he trusted she had an appropriate idea in mind.


End file.
